Curious Boys
by bloodsucking-llama
Summary: Albus can't help it - he's curious about Scorpius Malfoy, and he wants to relieve his curiosity. When Scorpius is bullied for being gay, Albus finds his chance.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

By the time Albus managed to drag himself down to the Great Hall that morning, he'd already missed the better part of breakfast. Students were filing out of the open doors, laughing and chattering and shouting over the clatter of noise. A few called Albus's name, and he gave his crooked smile and said hello in his half-awake voice, though he wasn't always sure who he was saying hello to. This was a consequence of having James Sirius Potter for an older brother and Harry James Potter for a father: everyone seemed to recognize him, no matter how much Albus wished they didn't.

When he got to the Gryffindor table, it was nearly empty. He thumped down onto the bench beside Rose Weasley. She barely looked up from the paper she was madly scribbling – an essay that was due that morning, and an essay she'd clearly forgotten about until now – and she didn't bother to say hello as Albus took a piece of her toast. He tore it into little pieces and then into even smaller pieces after that, not once putting any of it into his mouth, as he looked across the Great Hall with a bowed head and hunched shoulders, glancing up every now and then through his eyelashes as he tried to act as though he wasn't looking.

Scorpius Malfoy lingered at the Slytherin table. There was a crease in between his eyebrows, but beyond that, there was no emotion on his face. The hairs of his eyebrows were white, as though they'd been dusted with powdered chalk, and matched the color of his face almost perfectly. A smattering of pink was on his cheeks, the tip of his thin nose – and his lips were pink as well.

Scorpius wasn't paying attention to whatever it was that Ursula Spinnet and Norwood Nott were saying on either side of him. His blank eyes were unfocused, gazing at the air in front of him – he blinked and looked across the hall. He looked at Albus. Albus turned his head away, heat creeping up his neck, and pretended he hadn't been looking at all.

A slam shook the table. Albus jumped in his seat. "This is complete bullocks, this is," Rose said. "Who the bloody hell gives a bloody shit about a bloody draft that can raise the godforsaken bloody dead?" And she threw her quill onto the table for good measure.

"Not going well, then?"

Rose gave him a look that withered his smile. "Mum's going to flip if she finds out about this. She's always telling me to stop acting like the damned fool my father was when he was here, but I can't help it if I'm not the bloody genius she is, can I?"

The thing was, Rose was a bloody genius – everyone knew that she was – but she just never did her work. At that moment, though, Albus felt inclined to agree with anything she said. "Right you are."

"Albus," Rose said, "that prat Scorpius Malfoy is staring at you."

"Yeah?" he said. He fought the urge to look up, to see if Scorpius Malfoy was really watching. The bread he was tearing apart was a mound of crumbs now.

"Yeah." Her eyes went from the bread and back to Albus's face. "You know, I heard that Scorpius Malfoy is gay."

Albus stopped tearing the bread apart. He brushed his hands off. "I heard the same thing."

"Think it's true?"

"I guess. I don't know. Why does it matter?"

"Just curious. Never met a gay person before."

The bell echoed. They only had a few minutes to make it down to the dungeons. Albus jumped up, very aware that Rose was staring after him. "Come on, then. We'll be late."

* * *

As they were leaving the Great Hall together, a small group of Slytherins pushed their way in front, pretending they hadn't seen Albus or Rose, and went out of the open doors. Albus watched Norwood Nott and Ursula Spinnet and Odile Zabini – and his eyes inevitably found Scorpius Malfoy.

It wasn't something Albus could help. It wasn't something he could explain. But there was something about Scorpius Malfoy that always drew his eye. Maybe it was just curiosity – a curiosity he'd had since his first night at the Sorting ceremony, when he first looked across the hall and saw Scorpius Malfoy sitting at his table, decorated with silver and green, with eyes so expressionless that he reminded Albus of the Bloody Baron. That night, no one had been surprised that yet another Potter had found himself in Gryffindor. Maybe that was something Albus regretted – that he wasn't special or different, that he couldn't have surprised everyone and ended up in Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff. Still, better than Slytherin.

The Malfoy boy, whom Albus had been watching throughout the ceremony – he'd been put in Slytherin. No one was surprised about that either. Even as he watched the Malfoy boy, Albus knew that the Slytherin felt the same way he did. Barely eleven years old, and he was already bored with his life. He was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, just as James and Albus were expected to follow in theirs.

Albus watched the backs of Scorpius Malfoy and the other Slytherins as they walked ahead, all headed towards the dungeons. He'd always watched Scorpius without ever having said a word, though he'd heard the Malfoy boy speak on more than one occasion: in the class they shared in Potions, and in the Great Hall as he spoke with friends, and once when Scorpius had bumped into Albus in the corridors and on the way to dinner, and he'd said, "Excuse me," without any particular enthusiasm or joy.

Albus knew that he wanted to speak to Scorpius – just to say hello, or comment on an assignment they'd had in Potions. He knew that once they spoke, he'd see there wasn't anything particularly special about Scorpius Malfoy, and that they didn't have much in common after all. Saying something – anything – would relieve his curiosity. But Albus also knew that Potter's simply did not speak to Malfoy's. If he wanted to speak to Scorpius, he'd have to find a damned good excuse to do it.

* * *

After Potions ended, Albus and Rose emerged from the dungeons and headed to their next class, Rose complaining all the while that the professors always gave too much work. Albus wasn't listening – ahead of him, Scorpius Malfoy was speaking to Odile Zabini about an assignment they'd just been given. His voice was low – lower than most sixteen-year-olds – and made him sound older than he really was. It was a nice voice, Albus had decided long ago.

Further down the hall, Albus's older brother James was laughing so loudly that his voice echoed throughout the corridor. He stood on a low wall, in front of a stained glass window so that yellow and orange and red light shined down on him. James was what most would consider attractive. He was tall, with brown eyes and browned skin, darkened from days of playing Quidditch in the sun, and with a mess of dark hair. Albus was a lot shorter than his brother was, and skinnier too, with green eyes he thought were a little too bright at times. While the mess of dark hair matched James's image, Albus's black hair just looked messy and tangled.

James was so loud that heads swerved to watch him. To Albus, it seemed his older brother always had to be the center of attention. "He can be such a prat sometimes," Albus said.

"Don't you think you should be a little nicer? He's your brother."

"I'm just saying he's a prat," Albus said, "and besides, he could be a little nicer to me too."

Rose couldn't disagree with that.

As they got closer, James quieted down and peered down into the crowd. He jumped down from his wall and into the center of the corridor, only a few feet in front of Albus – and right in front of Scorpius Malfoy.

James grinned. "Why, hello there, Malfoy," he said, apparently as loudly as he could. "Heard something interesting about you, you know."

Scorpius watched James with bored eyes. "Oh, yes? Please tell me, I beg of you. There's nothing more I want to hear than something you've heard about me." And he rolled his eyes as Odile snickered. The two of them began to walk around James and continue on their way – but stopped when James spoke again.

"Heard you're a faggot."

Movement in the corridor had already stopped, as it often did whenever James had singled out a new victim. Most eyes were on Scorpius now. Albus watched Scorpius too – looked hard to see if Scorpius would affirm the rumors – but Scorpius only shrugged. "Can't help it if that's what you heard."

"So it's true, then? You like sucking dick? What's your daddy got to say about that, eh?"

Scorpius didn't respond. He just stood there in the center of the crowded corridor, lips pressed together, not seeming to mind that whispers had erupted and were spreading throughout the hall. Albus had heard the same rumors, of course – that Scorpius Malfoy had been caught on his knees in the prefect's bathroom, with a Durmstrang boy during the Yule Ball, and that he'd kept moving pictures of naked men hidden in his trunk.

"I mean, he's got to be pretty disappointed, right?" James went on. "How'll he keep his pure blood line going if he's got a faggot for a son?"

"Come on, James. That's enough."

Everyone looked at Albus. The whispers stopped, and beside him, Rose stared. He swallowed, and forced himself not to look at Scorpius, who he was sure was watching him too. He just kept looking at James. James towered over the crowd, grin slowly fading from his face, his brows furrowed and his eyes hard on Albus. "We were just talking." He looked at Scorpius again, and smiled. "Right, Malfoy? Nothing wrong with talking."

"Just leave him alone," Albus said, quietly so that only the few around him and Scorpius and James could hear. "He didn't do anything to you, right? So just leave him alone."

James stood there for a second, watching Albus – but finally he pushed past Scorpius. He knocked his shoulder into Albus too as he walked by, his seventh-year friends close behind. "Didn't realize you made a habit of sticking up for Slytherins," he said as he passed.

The crowd began to disperse, though people still twisted and craned their heads to look at Albus and Scorpius. Scorpius began to walk away as well. He didn't acknowledge Albus. He didn't look at him, or thank him – he didn't say a word, and Albus realized that this was what he'd wanted. "You're welcome," he called out to Scorpius's back.

Scorpius stopped. He turned around, and there was a small smile on his face. It wasn't a friendly smile. "I'm sorry," he said. "You seem to think I should be grateful to you."

"Shouldn't you be? I just got James to stop bothering you."

"And if your brother hadn't been such an asshole in the first place, there never would've been a problem." He turned around again and kept on walking. Albus felt a strong urge to use his wand on Scorpius's back, or to at least throw something at him.

"That's what you get for helping out a Slytherin," Rose said.

They kept moving down the corridor.

"Why did you help him, anyway?" Rose said.

Albus stuck a hand into his hair. "You're not going to give me shit for this, are you? James, I understand, but you too?"

"I'm not giving you shit, Al, but can you blame me for asking?"

"James was being a prat."

"James is always being a prat."

Albus shrugged. "I don't know. Dad told us this story about our grandma, once. She was always sticking up for people, even if they were Slytherins. Maybe that's where it came from."

Rose didn't say anything else about it, but Albus wasn't too sure she believed him.

One thing Albus realized, as he was walking to the Great Hall for dinner later that day: he'd spoken to Scorpius, and had a conversation – but it hadn't relieved his curiosity. If anything, he wanted to speak to Scorpius Malfoy even more than he had before.

* * *

Not an hour of dinner had passed before news spread through the Great Hall, while Albus sat with Rose and his little sister Lily over their half-eaten steak and kidney pie: Scorpius Malfoy had been found out on the Quidditch field, bruised and bloody and hexed unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

The common room was unusually quiet that night. The firewood cracked as students whispered amongst themselves, heads bent over tables and gazes cast down to the ground. Albus and Rose sat on a sofa furthest from everyone else, right near the portrait door. They were silent. It didn't seem there was much to say.

No one had been attacked this badly in Hogwarts since the war. Owls had been swooping in all night from frantic parents, leaving a flurry of feathers wherever they went. Professors had already started an investigation into the student or students behind the attack. During dinner, James had been called to the Head of House to answer some questions. No one was surprised, given the scene so many had witnessed in the hallway before.

"Like it's really that big of a deal," Richard Davies, one of James's seventh-year cronies, said a little more loudly than necessary from across the room. "Everyone's acting like it's the end of the world, just because a Slytherin fag got his ass kicked. It was gonna happen eventually anyway, right?"

"Do you think it was really him?" Rose whispered to Albus. "I know James is an ass, but even he wouldn't do something like this, would he?"

Albus didn't answer her. The truth was, he wasn't sure.

"I heard he was in really bad shape," Rose said. "Malfoy, I mean. I heard he was a lot closer to being dead than the professors wanted to let on. A Ravenclaw found him. Said she thought he was already dead when she saw him at first. Barely breathing, and his bones clearly broken. Says he showed signs of having the Cruciatus Curse used on him."

"Can you stop?"

Rose looked at Albus in surprise. "Sorry. I was just repeating what I heard."

The portrait swung open and heads turned. James Potter stepped through. James's friends stood up immediately. Everyone watched him walk slowly, hands in pockets, half-grin on his face. "Bloody hell. It's like someone died in here."

"Someone did almost die," Rose said. "In case you forgot."

James's eyes got narrow. "No. Didn't forget that one, thank you."

There was just a second where everyone watched James, before laughter and talk broke out, as though no one had just been whispering about him at all. James started across the room towards his friends, but Albus jumped out of his seat and got in his brother's way.

"Hold on," Albus said. "Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?"

James eyed him. "Why would I do that?"

"I'm your brother."

"You're also a twat."

Albus clenched his jaw and took a breath and leaned in so only James could hear him. "Did you attack Scorpius or not?"

James didn't answer right away. When he did, he said, "You're right. You are my brother. So you should know better than to ask me a question like that."

He shoved past Albus, but Albus grabbed his elbow. "If you didn't, who did?"

"How the hell should I know?" James asked, a little more loudly this time. "In fact, why the hell should I care? Why do you care so much?"

Albus let go of his elbow. "I'm allowed to be worried, right? People are saying it's going to be the war all over again."

"Trust me – if there was going to be another war, it wouldn't be a Slytherin lying half-dead in the infirmary."

James kept on walking, and Albus let him go this time, looking over his shoulder at the seventh-years that started laughing and smacking James on the back, as though he'd just scored a point in a Quidditch match.

"Do you believe him?" Rose asked him.

Albus shook his head. "I don't know."

* * *

Days passed. Without being able to see Scorpius in the corridors, or look at him across the Great Hall, Albus was able to think about little else but the boy he was so used to watching. And it didn't help, of course, that the attack on Scorpius Malfoy was all anyone would talk about. Whispers filled the halls. Apparently, Scorpius downright refused to say who it was that'd attacked him. A matter of pride, some supposed.

By the end of the week, Albus considered sneaking into the infirmary to get a look at Scorpius Malfoy himself. He'd already gone to the infirmary once. He stood outside its door for a long while, pretending he'd stopped to tie his shoe whenever a professor or a student walked by, before he'd go back to pacing and trying to think of what to say – struggling to think of an excuse to visit the Slytherin – until finally he decided he was mad and went back to his dormitory.

It was when a full week had passed that word spread: Scorpius had been released. Albus spent the better part of breakfast staring at the doors of the Great Hall, waiting for the Slytherin to appear – and when he didn't, he walked as slowly as he could through the corridors, staring around with wide eyes, so that Rose eventually asked, "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" And when he reached Potions, he sat expectantly, sure that Scorpius wouldn't miss his first class after an entire week of being in the infirmary – but he never showed up to class either. When the professor asked where Scorpius was, Odile Zabini said that no one had seen him all morning.

Frustrated, Albus opted out of eating lunch with his little sister Lily and Rose, as he usually did in the Great Hall. He instead walked out onto the grounds with browning grass and the red of trees and the crisp wind. He came close enough to the edge of the lake to hear the lapping of the water against the muddy shore. The breeze coming over the water was even colder than it'd been before.

He expected to be the only one outside, seeing how cold it was, but he could see someone sitting on a cluster of rocks overlooking the shore, beside a tree that'd already lost its leaves to the wind. He walked closer and closer until finally Scorpius looked down at him from his seat.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Albus swallowed. Shrugged. "I just saw you, and I –" he stopped. "What're you doing out here?"

"Avoiding other people. I don't feel like being stared at today."

Albus knew this was Scorpius's way of telling him to leave, but he took another step towards the rocks. "So if I don't look at you, it's all right to stay, then?"

Scorpius laughed, but it didn't give Albus the impression that much was funny at the moment. He was even paler than he had been before. Albus could see the blue veins running through his arms.

"What do you want?"

"What?"

Scorpius made an impatient noise. "Can't imagine you're here to give me shit for being gay. No one's around to watch."

"No – I'd never do that. Give you shit for being gay, I mean."

Scorpius gave him a strange look, but he didn't say anything to that. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Albus leaned his back against the cold rock. He tried to stay still – didn't want to seem too nervous by rubbing his hands together, or patting down his hair. The wind whipped up and stung his cheeks. "I'm sorry about my brother," he said. "He was a prat to you before – the day that you – you know."

"Nothing new about that."

"I'm still sorry, though."

"And you think you're better than him?" Scorpius said. "Is that why you're talking to me? You're trying to prove you're not the prat your brother is?"

Albus shook his head. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm just – curious," he said. And when Scorpius didn't say anything, he added, "About what happened. About who attacked you."

"I haven't told anyone that. What makes you think I'd tell you?"

Albus looked up. "Can you just tell me one thing? Just tell me if it was my brother. You don't have to tell me who it was if it wasn't him, but if it was – you have to tell me."

"I don't have to do anything."

"It was him, wasn't it?"

"And if it wasn't?" Scorpius met Albus's eyes. His stare was hard enough to make Albus want to look away, but he forced himself not to. Scorpius said, "You think he's innocent in all this?"

Albus shook his head. "No. I don't."

That must've caught Scorpius by surprise, because he kept quiet. He blinked and looked away. "It wasn't him."

Albus couldn't even be sure he believed Scorpius – but he also couldn't think of a reason why Scorpius would protect his older brother. "Who was it, then?"

"You said you wouldn't ask."

"I don't get it. Why would you protect someone that's tried to kill you?"

Scorpius made a face. "Don't be so dramatic. No one's tried to kill me." He took a breath. Hot air steamed out of his mouth. "Beat the shit out of me, sure. But he wasn't trying to kill me."

"They didn't use the Cruciatus Curse on you?"

He laughed, and Albus thought the laugh didn't sound as cold this time. "You've been gossiping too much, Potter."

Albus could feel his face turning warm, even in the cold breeze. "I'm right that you're protecting someone, though."

"You and the rest of the school. But that's no one's business but my own." He looked at Albus again. "And why do you care so much?"

It might've been smarter for Albus to say that he didn't care – to swear it up and down – but instead he said, just above a whisper, "I don't know."

Scorpius watched Albus long and hard – unashamed, like he knew it was making Albus uncomfortable, but he didn't care. "I see you watching me, you know. You're always staring at me."

Albus didn't know what to say.

"Why?"

Albus shook his head.

"You don't know."

"It's just that I'm – curious."

"Thought you were just curious about who attacked me." When Albus didn't answer, Scorpius smiled. He stood up from the rock, stretched, stepped down from one rock to the next until he was on the ground beside Albus, and he turned away to walk back to the castle.

"Hold on," Albus said. Scorpius turned to look at him. "Would it be all right to – I don't know – talk to you sometimes?"

"You're talking to me now, right?"

Scorpius kept going. Albus just stood there, watching him walk away until he couldn't see Scorpius anymore – and when he could finally breathe again, he started back to the castle himself, wondering how he'd be able to convince Scorpius to say who his attacker was, and trying his best not to think about why he was so interested in Scorpius Malfoy in the first place.


End file.
